


Shiny Toy With a Price

by whenindoubtsmile



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:22:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22781686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenindoubtsmile/pseuds/whenindoubtsmile
Summary: That summer was particularly hot and cruel and it hadn't rained since May. (Or Bruce wants to label his relationship with Selina and she is adamantly against such an idea.)
Relationships: Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	Shiny Toy With a Price

**Author's Note:**

> Once again I have committed the fandom version of a hit-and-run by delivering a single story based on a Taylor Swift song and then fleeing the scene of the crime. This one is based on/around Cruel Summer and there are a few little hints buried throughout the story that reference it. I hope you enjoy.

If asked to describe the summer of Year Zero, Selina would immediately respond that it was the hottest summer of her life. Whether or not this was actually the case is up for debate, but it certainly felt like the hottest summer. And a lot of Gothamites agreed. It hadn’t rained since May and by the time July rolled around, any plant that hadn’t been tended to religiously was dead and people were desperately praying for any amount of rain. The streets were full of people in as few items of clothing as they could be, water with ice in it was treated like pure gold, and people would huddle in groups to be in front of one of the few working air conditioners.

What only a handful of people knew, and one of the secrets you couldn’t pay Selina to spill, was that Bruce and Alfred’s small apartment was one of the only places with a working, refrigerated air conditioning system. Bruce has claimed the apartment early enough after the bridges blew and Alfred has booby trapped it enough that no one was ever able to really vandalize the small 3-bed, 2-bath apartment. That apartment, with it’s pink wallpaper that Alfred and Selina had painted a deep blue in the early morning one of the first days she was able to walk and the doors that squeaked no matter how much oil she and Bruce poured on the hinges, quickly became her refuge during the Hottest Summer Ever.

The apartment was about four blocks away from the GCPD and a five-minute walk if you used the roofs (seven minutes if you used the regular streets). It wasn’t unusual for Bruce to get up before the sun and head to the police station, at which point Selina, who had usually camped out on the small fire escape outside his window, would sneak in and take her turn getting a couple of hours of sleep. It was a weird set-up, which seemed fitting considering how Selina had no idea how this year would be remembered once the bridges were back and Bruce lived in a mansion that wasn’t full of board games with mismatched pieces and her clothes and the truly disgusting alcohol that Alfred had gotten from Lucius that one time. But then again, things had always been weird for them and there was nothing to indicate anything would change any time soon.

Looking back on it now, years after the incident and years after Bruce left and years after she became Catwoman and a socialite and years before Bruce will return dressed as a bat, Selina doesn’t know if she regrets the night they stole Alfred’s vodka or if she just wishes it has happened sooner so that maybe they could have figured everything out before he jumped on a plane headed to somewhere Selina wasn’t.

Rule one of nights that Alfred was out was that Selina must always supply snacks. The rule had started when they were much younger and Selina had taught him how to get snacks out of a vending machine without paying. He had, of course, refused to try this more than once because it was all about the “research” and would be “irresponsible to steal something as small as a pack of potato chips”. Selina had found the sentiment to be one of the most ridiculous ones he had ever shared and then promptly determined that she would always have some stolen vending machine snacks on her when she saw him. That had quickly stopped meaning that she brought the food back to her squat where he’d be waiting and started to mean that she snuck Twinkies and gummy worms and flat soda into his mansion where the small offerings seems stupid and inconsequential in comparison to Alfred’s expertly-made quiches and chocolates from Germany and steakss that cost more than Selina wanted to think about. But the bridges blowing had changed things and once again she was able to offer a valuable commodity and she certainly loved that more than shyly passing Bruce a half-eaten oatmeal creme pie when he could have bought the factory that made it with his pocket change.

So, it was for that reason that Selina snuck through the window that July evening with her arms full of treats with enough processed sugar to kill a man. She had found a vending machine a few blocks away that was mostly full since it has been vandalized past the point of being recognized as a vending machine many years earlier. Bruce, who looked like he hadn’t even considered sleeping for at least a month, greeted her with an exceptionally jubilant smile.

“We figured it out!” he exclaimed as he helped her unload the snacks on the small table.

“The water?”

“Yeah! We just altered one of the old water purifiers and then added on... “ he paused, looking at her with a slightly resigned face. “We made a new water purifier from some old ones and some other tech.”

“Thanks for the dumbed down version. Do you want Twizzlers or Red Vines?” Selina asked holding up one packet in each hand. Bruce paused for a moment, considering, before grabbing the Twizzlers. Selina smiled to herself; Bruce hated Twizzlers and must have known the ones he had just taken would be as hard as a rock, but he also knew that Red Vines were her favorite. Even if that wasn’t the thought process that had gone into his candy selection, she was going to assume that it was. She was in a city full of criminals, cut off from the rest of the world and would probably die of heat stroke if the weather didn’t let up soon; she should be allowed to entertain some slightly romantic ideas.

“So,” she said as she plopped down on the couch with Red Vines in one hand and her arms and legs slung over every inch of the piece of furniture. “What now? You wanna lose another game of Monopoly?”

Bruce shot her a glare from the kitchen before he came and settled on the coffee table next to the couch. “I would have won if you hadn’t cheated and you know it.” (Selina rolled her eyes at that.) “But I actually have something much better.”

“Do tell…”

“Yahtzee.”

If Selina’s eyebrows could have risen any higher they would have touched her hair line. “Yahtzee?”

“Yahtzee. Plus some gambling.”

“Okay… Explain.”

Bruce laid out the rules. The game would play normally, but they would have to place bets on what they would roll. Each round they would bet something small and as the game went on, what they bet would have to increase in value.

By the time they had finished the first game (Selina won), the pair had discovered some issues with the rules of the game as they stood. Namely, they ran out of things to bet very, very quickly and it had reached the point where Bruce was betting Alfred’s things and Selina was trying to bet random items she found in Bruce’s room (she had bet a very pricey watch his father had bought him for his tenth birthday and her heart had nearly stopped thinking about the price what she likely saw as simply a shiny toy) and it had simply devolved into a very low-stakes game once it became clear none of the items would actually change hands at the end of the night.  
Bruce, always one to try and fix any problem presented to him, searched around the apartment to find any way to spice up this game that was rapidly becoming boring when Selina threw a couch pillow at him.

“I’ve got it. You remember that vodka Lucius gave Alfred a couple months ago? The stuff they found in that raid?” Bruce nodded slowly, not entirely certain where Selina was going with this train of thought but pretty certain he would be regretting going along with it in the morning. “We play the game the same way, but, instead of betting objects, we bet how many shots we take.”

“That seems like a great way to get alcohol poisoning.”

“C’mon! It won’t kill us and we can come up with some excuse about, I don’t know, someone stealing it if Alfred ever notices that it’s gone. It’ll be fun.” Selina, who at this point was standing on the couch to talk to Bruce from his vantage point in the kitchen, did her best to give him a sweet face. Instead of a response, Bruce simply grabbed the vodka and rolled his eyes as the setting sun behind him gave him a faintly angelic halo. One day, Bruce figured, Selina would realize she wouldn’t ever have to try and convince him to join her in things. One day she’d figure out that he followed her not because he thought her ideas were good or because he was curious or because he had no other choice. Hopefully, one day she’d realize that he was ready to follow her off of a cliff not to figure out what was at the bottom of siad cliff, but because she was the one to walk off of it.

Another hour passed and as the sun finally set a cool breeze began to blow through the apartment. It was with all the windows open in the apartment and the faint sounds of music coming from the apartment’s kitchen that Selina screamed ‘yahtzee’ and emerged from the game victorious once again. Both teens laughed as Bruce finished the bottle in resignation. Neither of them were strangers to alcohol, but this was the first time they had actually been drunk at the same time. Normally they simply had angry confrontations where one was sober and the other was not, but this situation, with both more than a little high on each other’s company, the sinking temperatures, and the relief of having survived another day, was infinitely preferable to their other drunken encounters. Bruce swept the dice into the mostly destroyed box they had found them in as Selina laid back on the couch, playing with one of the die she had snagged at the end of the game.

Once the game was put away, Bruce came to sit down, lifting Selina’s legs and settling down on the couch before lowering them onto his lap. The two sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before Bruce broke the silence.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

Confused what would spark such a random question, Selina looked at him quizzically. “Uh. Yeah. Why?”

“I was just thinking that I really don’t know where you sleep and we have an extra room here and it just seems ridiculous that you’d be wandering around Gotham where you can get hurt when you could be here and with us and safe and I just don’t know why you’d risk everything just to avoid staying here-”

“You think I’m avoiding staying here? Why would you think that?” Selina was sitting up on the couch now, curling her legs under her to look Bruce in the face.

Bruce played with his hands and stared out the window, “I just figured you wanted to keep us a secret, like you did when we were younger. You didn’t like labeling things and I figured you stayed away and didn’t live with us because you were scared of being labeled.”

“Okay,” Selina held up her hands. “What exactly do you think we are? Because I thought we were just friends hanging out and friends don’t live with friends when they’re stuck on an island full of criminals and separated from the rest of humanity.”

“Really? You think we’re just friends? Then what on Earth was up with you kissing me in Haven or sleeping in my bed when I leave in the morning or coming over for a date whenever Alfred is out? Do you kiss all your friends? What are the rules here, Selina? Because you may not need to know them but I do.”

“Why do there need to be rules and labels? Can’t we just be us? We’ve never needed rules before.” Selina tries not to shout but this conversation was tired and pointless the first time they had it all those years ago and it hasn’t gotten any better in the intervening time. He knows that labels freak her out and he knows that setting rules freak her out and he knows all of this because they’ve been over it so many times that she feels like she could have this argument in her sleep.

“Are you kidding me?” Bruce stands up and drags his hands over his face. “I’ve always needed the rules and the labels! And I can’t figure out why you don’t want them. Are you ashamed of me? Am I your dirty little secret?”

Selina is up in an instant, glaring up at Bruce. “That is insane and you know it! Everyone knows we’re connected. I’m not trying to keep that a secret.”

“Then why can’t I call you my girlfriend?” Bruce’s voice is raised at this point and it’s becoming painfully clear to both parties that this has escalated from their usual labels conversation to a drunken argument.

“Why does it matter that you call me that? It’s not going to change anything!”

“It’ll change everything! I’m tired of keeping you a secret!”

“From who? Who are you keeping me a secret from? Because I’m pretty sure everyone knows that we’re-”

  
“We’re WHAT? When Jim asks me about you, do I say you’re just my friend? My girlfriend? An alley cat that spends more time in my apartment than Alfred does? I feel like I’m carrying us around as a secret everywhere and I can’t keep doing that. If we’re going anywhere with this, I need a label. I’m not going to keep you if it means keeping you as a secret.”

  
“Oh my… Bruce what does that even mean?”

  
Bruce’s hands are in his hair as he stares up at the ceiling in frustration. “It means that this is the ultimatum.”

  
Selina snorts before biting her lip and replying, “An ultimatum. Really? That’s where we’re at? I came over to hang out with you and now you’re giving me an ultimatum?”

  
“Yeah because every day I’m dying over trying to figure out what I mean to you and I can’t keep doing it. If I’m just your boyfriend then I’m happy to do that and if I’m just your friend then I’ll be honored to fill that role, but I cannot keep living in a realm where some days you’ll kiss me and other days you just want to be friends and then the other days where you’ll ignore me. I just need to know.”

  
For a moment, everything is silent except for the sound of the crickets outside and the quiet ticking of the clock. Selina shakes her head ever so slightly and stares at the ground as she whispers, “I could be bleeding and you’d be the last to know.”

  
“What?”

  
Slightly louder now as the tears begin to well in Selina’s eyes: “I could be bleeding and you’d be the last to know.”

  
“That’s ridiculous. What do you mean? We’re together constantly and of course I would know if you were bleeding and-”

  
“No,” there’s a small flame in Selina’s eyes now. “No, you wouldn’t because you don’t know that every day I’m bleeding and lying and saying I’m fine when really I'm dying and trying to figure out how I feel and waiting for you to cut me to the bone.”

  
“Then why don’t you tell me? Selina, I just want you to tell me these things so that I can-”

  
“HAVE A LABEL? Bruce, you want a label so badly and I don’t have one! We’re both feel like we’re always trying to make it work but we’re never making any progress and me sneaking in here every day is just sealing our fates so now we’re tied together and you want to know how I feel and I can’t tell you -”

  
“WHY? Why can’t you tell me? What could possibly be so bad that you can’t tell me?”

  
“What’s so bad? Bruce, don’t you get it? I LOVE YOU AND IT’S THE WORST THING TO EVER HAPPEN TO ME!”

  
Silence falls over the apartment again as Bruce sinks down onto the coffee table.

  
And then he looks up at her, meeting her eyes with his, and grins the most devilish grin she has ever seen and, for the first time since May, it starts to rain outside.


End file.
